The mark
by jordan.D
Summary: Natsuki received a mark from Shizuru before they separated. Just forget about the facts you know in Mai Hime.


This idea just appeared in my mind during a gathering party. This is Natsuki's POV. Hope you like it!

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I stepped into bathroom with half closed eyes, opening the tap and splashed cold water through my face. Fresh, alert by the surroundings. Looking into the plane mirror while both hands clutching onto the edges, I see myself clearly as if only the mirror knew what inside of me made of. Wood? Plastic? Or fire? I don't know which. Very confusing indeed. The mirror revealed my right hand rose, palm placed on my right cheek. I could feel another smooth hand gave my right cheek a physical pain. No, rather a heart pain, a bullet that shot right into my chest and remained there eternally. It burned and swelled. 

No stitches on my right cheek or any miniature to mask it. It was a one day invisible mark which unveiled a two-eyed mask of an identity during a masquerade party, dancing under the moonbeam light, where mixed a crimson color into orange, yellow, green, into variety bright colors like this mark arrived, and made of different emotions and fragrance from roses, lilies. Somehow, the petals just withered. And I survived. I wondered how.

Wait, I thought I just sniff something nice. Walking toward the kitchen, I noticed a brunette, with an apron tied around her slender waist, frying some scramble eggs and hams. Immersed in her own cooking, two arms startled her. It was me. Me embracing her from the back. She smiled as I snuggled into her shoulder. Switching off the fire, my right cheek was emotionally touched by her palm, warmth. Looking into her crimson eyes, I see nothing but tears of happiness sunk deep in her pupil. From where I stood before a mirror, no exposure of happiness in that mark except guilt. Never.

The initial thought of a wealthy princess came to my view, induced nauseate and disgust in my throat. A pamper girl who held her head up like a royal family in England, speaking to people with a beak nose. That accent! I loathed it. My mind seemed to whirl in a merry-go-round; brain was just washed by a machine, as I gazed into those crimson eyes. Her emotions in those crimson eyes slowly revealed as I drew portrait sketches of her. If I remembered correctly, I did more than a hundred pieces sketches of the red bull eyed monster. Not a compliment but an attraction. Now, just a touch of my right cheek, the image of sketching her appeared in my mind unconsciously without hand-working.

Am I gay? I asked myself right after walking out of her smothering office. Never knew meeting a client would blow me a strike. A strike of unutterable question: Am I gay? I did wonder whom I could share this question with. Maybe the amicable Mai Tokiha. A friend who was destined to be single after three onerous love relationship. The fascinating Mai Tokiha. This gay relationship started with a bite on my neck, and ended with a scar, a wound.

This is ridiculous, insane. I need to stop all these nonsense thoughts which were driving me crazy. It was over. Slamming the house door closed without locking it. Walking down Tokyo Street on a Monday morning, the first day of a new week, no one in the street knew how their day started. It's all about timing. The time where I got my art degree, the time where I remained single again. Was is the time where the relationship was broken, like the time when a person supposed to shrink?

"Kuga-san, your students are waiting for you,"

"Yes, I know,"

People were always waiting for each other. But for how long is the right moment?

"Shin-san, careful about the stain on your palm,"

Yes, the stain. Why does the stain, scar, mark, wound, origin from something you loved initially? Why can't things remained the same? Of course, if things remained the same, life would be boring. I did not catch any balls.

"Sensei, could you tell me anything wrong with this portrait?" Asked one of the female student.

A moment I thought I saw her in the drawing, as though this drawing is mine. Hurriedly, I shook the thought out of my mind.

"She must be a gorgeous looking girl," I commented, receiving a smile from the student.

"Yes, she is,"

"The portrait is well done, just add a bit more tone on the eye part and brows, she did a little make up, didn't she?"

"Oh my, nothing can escape sensei's eyes," said the student before returning to her canvas.

Walking out of the art school after correcting the last piece of artwork, I saw a small stall selling ice-cream and thought of treating myself one. Letting the ice-cream swallowed down my throat a voice entered my mind: Eating ice-cream is the happiest moment, so when Natsuki is eating it, she must think me.

Reaching my apartment doorstep, opening the door, I saw a woman sitting on the couch. Our eyes met.

It was her who gave me the mark.


End file.
